Diptych (2)
C
Christopher Merrill
0
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Lines for Jane and Jonathan Wells
How the white horses gallop through the city
At nightfall, when the fog rolls in from the sea
And one by one the street lamps fail to light.
o
The curtain of the port rises on nothing—
No buoys and no boats. Only the cry
Of a gull flying somewhere over the water,
o
And then the whinnying of the last horse
Rearing before the gate it will pass through
On its hind legs to join the rest of the herd.
o
Only this—and the light above your door.
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